


May, 1797

by Other_Pens



Series: Oak Tree Vignettes [4]
Category: The London Life (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Childhood Friends, Childhood Sweethearts, F/M, Fluff, Regency, Regency Romance, Secret Relationship
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-06
Updated: 2016-09-06
Packaged: 2018-08-13 11:15:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,745
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7974847
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Other_Pens/pseuds/Other_Pens
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Freddie finds it harder and harder to keep her most precious secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	May, 1797

George had set out the moment he'd received Freddie's note--sealed up inside another note to his mother, who was happy to facilitate their correspondence. They were engaged, after all--it was only important that no hint of it should reach Sir Arthur.

It being the young lady in question's birthday, George had pocketed a small box before going out. His horse stood saddled, as he had planned to find some excuse to ride over to Hillshaw, anyway--perhaps to have a word with Perry...and then slip out of the greenhouse to meet with Freds for a walk. She asked him to come to the oak tree, in any case, and so he made good time on horseback and was already smiling broadly at the prospect of giving her her present, which he had taken great pains in choosing.

Freddie sat on the low seat of a knobbled root, her shawl drawn tightly about her shoulders, and she did not leap to her feet as George dismounted and came towards her. His face darkened when he saw the half-dried streaks upon her cheeks, and the sheen of new tears in her eyes.

"What's wrong? What's happened?" he demanded, kneeling on the mossy ground and taking hold of both her hands in his.

"...Papa wishes me to go away."

George's grip tightened at her words, and he shook his head.

"Why would he want that? Has he found out?"

"No--that is, I don't think so," sniffled Freddie. "Perhaps the occasion of my birthday served as a reminder that he has a daughter who isn't getting any younger."

"Where does he want you to go?"

"Some old friend of his...or...an acquaintance...a viscount and his wife...will be giving a house-party in the summer, after the Season is ended. I've been asked to go as their guest."

George chafed her hands a little, trying to be optimistic, though his hopes for a summer spent in her company felt suddenly rather dashed, and he struggled to conceal his disappointment.

"So, a fortnight or so, in the summer...it will not be so bad, surely? You will come back."

"They have asked me to stay at least a month, and would likely wish to extend my visit...if all goes well."

"If what goes well?"

Frederica hiccuped, and heaved a wretched sigh.

"They have a son," she admitted wearily. "Two, actually. They hope the first will make a good match in London, and if that is the case, I am to expect an offer from the second...I believe he is in the Army. Or, if there is no-one in town who will have the eldest..." Freddie gave a watery smile with not one bit of humour in it. "I am told I could expect to be a viscountess, someday."

George swallowed heavily, and a muscle in his jaw twitched.

"You shan't go, then," he said firmly. "Not if you don't want to."

"I don't want to!" she cried. "But what excuse could I give for refusing?"

He reached for her face, cupping one hand against her cheek and brushing away her tears with the pad of his thumb, waiting until Freddie's eyes met his.

"I will go to your father this moment and tell him everything," he said. Freddie shook her head.

"No--that would not help anything, believe me. All I could imagine it would do would be to strengthen his resolve. He seems to have finally found there is some purpose in having a daughter, and that is to marry her into a family with a greater title than his own." She could see George's sense of purpose was not swayed by her warning, and she grabbed the lapels of his coat. "Listen--listen to me...George, he is my father, and I know what he is truly like. I would not be afraid of thwarting him unless I was certain of his cold and petty nature." Her hands fell away from him, limp and empty and helpless. "And he can dispose of me as he likes--and he will."

"You are not his dog or his horse, that he could command you, or stable you where he likes, or...or..."

"Breed me with the sire of his choosing?" finished Freddie, dryly. "By law he--"

"A pox on the law!" shouted George, leaping to his feet and beginning to pace in his agitation. "Freds--" He turned to her and held out his hand. "Come with me now and we shall go to Scotland. Mother will help us, give us money for the journey--she'll understand."

"And her heart will break, just the same, not to see us married in the parish, with everything done properly." Freddie's mouth was set in a grim line of determination, and she waved her hand with an air of finality. "I'm not going to let him make us run away."

"What, then? You'll just go?"

"I may have to--" protested Freddie. "I don't want to tell lies, but even if I am made to go, they cannot make me accept either of their sons."

"They will want to know the reason why."

"I can say I do not care for them! That will be reason enough."

"Not enough for your father, though."

"Do you want me to think of some story to tell them?" snapped Freddie, almost wishing she had not decided to tell George at all. It seemed a hopeless situation, and though she did not truly believe she would find herself married against her will, she was fearful of seeing all her own hopes fall completely apart. "Because I have tried to think of something--anything--which would serve as an acceptable excuse."

"And yet you will not let me go to your father and--"

"To what purpose, George?" cried Freddie, close to tears once more in her frustration. "And even when I have gone and refused one or both of these men, do you think my father will simply give the matter up? That he will not take every opportunity to vent his anger or push me towards someone else he thinks suitable?"

"What is it you want me to do, Freddie? Tell me, and I'll do it."

Freddie's shoulders slumped with defeat, and her face clouded with trouble. She dropped her eyes to her hands, clasping them together tightly in her lap.

"This isn't fair, George. None of this is fair--I'm sorry. I'll not ask you to do anything." She stood, gathering her shawl about her shoulders, as if to put an end to the interview. "I only meant to explain my situation...and I know it is not likely to change for some time." Frederica looked up at him, at last, and felt sick, even as she knew what she had to say. "Two more years of...of this. Of my father and his whims. I cannot ask you to bear it--it is cruel...and you deserve better. You deserve so much better than this, George."

He looked at her with growing horror and disbelief, as it became clear what she was trying to do.

"No."

"George, please, let me say it--you could be free, and happy, and I want that for you. I want that more than anything else."

Freddie could say no more as George had already pulled her into his arms, holding her close and tucking her head under his chin.

"Frederica Bexley, there is no freedom or happiness for me in this world unless it is with you...and you are never going to be rid of me."

She let out a sound that was half-laughter and half-sob, pressing her face against his shoulder and letting herself savour the comfort of simply being in his arms. Here was home, as the house of Sir Arthur could never be.

They stood quietly beneath the spreading branches of the oak for several minutes, neither of them speaking. Further words seemed useless between them, and they understood each other better in their silence than perhaps they had in their argument.

"...Freds..." he finally ventured to say softly against her hair.

"...yes?"

"...what if I can persuade my mother to take you with her when she goes traveling in the summer? She has been talking of visiting the sea-side."

"Would she?"

"Certainly--I don't think she'll be the difficult one to persuade. We just need to convince your father--and if Mother makes the request, it will not seem entirely strange...and you know Sir Arthur rather grudgingly respects her in most things."

"I think he's a little afraid of her," mused Freddie.

"That's all to the good, then," said George, beginning to smile again, and thanking Heaven for the ally they had in Mrs. Haverleigh. However she had gained her influence over Sir Arthur, its usefulness was impossible to deny. Though its powers stopped short of being enough to compel Sir Arthur to give his daughter to the eldest Haverleigh son, it could yet serve a purpose. "And if you begin to affect a little cough now and then around your father, it may help to persuade him that your strength really isn't at all equal to a lengthy stay at a house-party...at least not this summer."

"And then by next summer we'll have thought of another escape..."

"And by the summer after that--" His lips skimmed against her ear, and Freddie could not help but give him a foolish little smile.

"--we'll be married?"

"We'll be married," he promised. And for some time thereafter, all was quiet again. "--oh! I'd forgotten!" blurted George, his wits having been a little addled by the rare joy of bestowing a kiss upon his intended.

"Forgotten what?" laughed Freddie.

"I have something for you."

"Oh?"

"In my...right coat pocket," he prompted her, making no attempt to remove his hands from the small of her back. Freddie gave a little roll of her eyes and dipped her hand into his pocket to find the little case. "For your birthday," he explained, briefly brushing the tip of his nose against hers. Freddie gave a little gasp of admiration when she opened the box and saw the little topaz cross nestled warmly against a scrap of white silk.

"George! Oh, it's wonderful," she said softly, smiling up at him. "I'll wear it at our wedding," she decided.

"Excellent--next year I'll get you the ear-bobs to match," chuckled George, hugging Freddie closer.


End file.
